Wolves at the Wall
by the-defenestration-of-smaug
Summary: Instead of killing Ned Stark, Joffrey allows him to go to the Wall to join the Night's Watch. This is what happens when he arrives.
1. Chapter 1

"Don't move around so much. I could just stand here and let you do all the work. Stand like this." Jon demonstrated, watching Pyp do his best to imitate the stance. "Feet a bit further apart. Good. That way you're balanced, but you're ready to move if you have to. Let's try again." Jon raised his blunted practice sword, ready for Pyp's attack.

They stood in the practice yard of Castle Black, along with a handful of new recruits to the Night's Watch and a few, like Pyp, who had already taken their vows but wanted to improve their skills. Jon had offered to help and his brothers had gratefully accepted, glad to learn from anyone but Ser Alliser Thorne.

Pyp swung his sword and Jon blocked the clumsy stroke, then lunged forward, landing a blow on Pyp's armored shoulder. "Keep your guard up," Jon reminded him. Pyp lifted his sword up higher and attacked a second time, but let it drift downward after Jon blocked him. Jon hit him again.

"Ow!" Pyp protested, dropping his sword from the force of the blow. "What was that for?"

"I told you to keep your guard up. Next time-" Jon broke off, his attention suddenly far from sword fighting. There was a ghost riding through the gates of Castle Black, the ghost of the home he'd lost, the time before whatever family he used to have had been scattered to the wind, before his father was a traitor and his sisters hostages and his brother riding south to war.

Eddard Stark swung down from his saddle, and his bastard son realized that this was no ghost.

Pyp's practice sword slammed into Jon's stomach, driving the air from his lungs. Jon staggered back, bending over with his hands on his knees.

"We hadn't started yet!" He gasped, glaring at Pyp.

"Next time, keep your guard up," the other boy said, grinning. Jon would have hit him again if he weren't still struggling to breathe. "What were you looking at, anyway?" Pyp asked, glancing over his shoulder. Jon slowly straightened up, wondering if he could have imagined it.

The former lord of Winterfell stood where he'd dismounted, talking to a black cloaked man. Then he turned, and his eyes met Jon's. They were gray, older somehow than they'd been when father and son had parted. _Like mine,_ Jon thought. Ned's face softened, and he didn't quite smile, but Jon't heart still leapt in a way it hadn't in months.

"Lesson's done for today," Jon said.

"Aw, come on, Snow, I didn't hit you that hard," Pyp protested. "And Sam didn't get to practice at all."

"Thank the gods for that," Sam muttered. He'd been dragged along to practice at his friend's' insistence but would undoubtedly prefer to be inside with his books.

Jon ignored them, dropping his sword and pushing past Pyp. He could feel their confused gazes on his back as he went, but at that moment he could not bring himself to care. He crossed the yard in seconds, and found himself face to face with a man he never thought he'd see again.

"Lord Stark," he blurted. Only then did it occur to him that he had no idea what to say.

"Jon," Ned said, a genuine smile breaking out on his face, softening the hard lines of his features and stripping away years of worry and pain. "It's good to see you, son." Then Jon's arms were around him, and they hugged each other tightly. He closed his eyes, and just for a moment, Jon Snow was home.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lord Snow." Jon pulled away from the embrace and turned, knowing exactly what he would see but dreading it all the same. "As touching as this is, I'm sure you have work to do."

"I'm off duty, Ser Alliser," Jon replied stiffly. The knight smiled snidely.

"Are you now? In that case, I'm sure you wouldn't object to heading up the wall for the watch tonight." Jon clenched his jaw. He was certain that he'd had more turns at the cold, exhausting night shift than any of his brothers, but he couldn't very well say so to Thorne. Then he'd probably end up digging latrines for a month or something equally unpleasant.

"Yes, Ser Alliser."

"Good. Cooper, show our new recruit to his quarters. The rest of you, get back to work," Thorne ordered, and the men gathered in the yard scattered. When Thorne had gone, Ned turned back to Jon.

"Lord Snow?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Ser Alliser loves his nicknames," Jon told him by way of an explanation. "I'd better go. Cooper will show you around," he said, gesturing to the young steward waiting nearby.

"Go, then," Ned agreed. "We'll talk more later." Jon nodded and walked away toward the armory. He had to put away his practice armor and sword and fetch his cloak before heading up the wall for the night.

He shouldn't have been surprised when he opened the door to the armory and found his friends waiting for him.

"Was that your father?" Sam asked.

"Wasn't he in King's Landing?" Pyp added.

"I heard that he's a traitor. I thought they were going to cut his head off," Grenn said, who must have joined the others there after Jon had left.

"It probably would've been better if they had," Edd said gloomily. "Now he has to live here." Rolling his eyes at them, Jon focused on undoing the buckles on his armor and hanging it up on the rack with his practice sword.

"Is it true he tried to kill the king?" Grenn asked.

"No," Jon snapped.

"Then what's he doing here?"

"Joining the Night's Watch, presumably." Jon replaced his practice sword with Longclaw, fastened the sheath around his waist, and left the armory, ignoring the questions that followed him out the door. He retrieved his cloak from his room and then stood in the yard for a moment, looking up at the sky. The light was already fading, he saw, and it would be full dark in less than half an hour. His watch was about to begin. Resigning himself to a long, cold night, Jon headed for the winch cage that would take him up to the top of the Wall.

Ned Stark entered the dining hall, shivering slightly despite his new black cloak. The air was thick with smoke from the hearth and full of the sound of men talking and eating. He got himself a bowl of stew and made for an empty table, but before he reached it he heard someone call his name.

"Lord Stark!" He turned, searching for the source of the voice. "Over here." His eyes fell on a skinny young man, sitting at a table nearby with three others. "Do you want to sit with us?" The boy asked, gesturing to an empty space at their table. Ned considered for a moment, then shrugged to himself and sat down with them.

"I'm Pyp," he introduced himself. "This is Grenn and Edd and Sam." He pointed them out: one a tall, muscular boy, one slightly older, and the other rather chubby. "We're friends of Jon."

"Good to meet you," Ned replied. "I'm-"

"Lord Stark. We know."

"I'm not a lord anymore. Call me Ned."

"All right then," Pyp said easily. "Tell me, Ned, has Jon always been such a grim bastard or did that just start after he came here?" Edd and Grenn snorted with laughter, and Sam's mouth twitched in a nervous smile. Ned smiled too. He could tell that there was no harm in the teasing. That was just how the boys talked about each other.

"He was always quite serious as a boy," Ned agreed.

"He's serious, all right. I could count on one hand the number of times I've seen him laugh, and so could Hobb," Pyp added. His friends laughed.

"I'm missing something," Ned said, looking between them.

"Hobb is the cook," Sam said, pointing out the wrinkled man handing out food at the end of the room. Ned noted that he was missing two fingers.

"I see," he said. In the brief pause that followed, Ned looked around the room for a familiar face. "Is my brother Benjen out on a ranging?" He asked when he didn't see him in the hall.

"Benjen?" Sam repeated. He just looked confused, but the others exchanged significant looks.

"The first ranger," Grenn told Sam. "He left before you came here."

"Oh, are you new here as well, Sam?" Ned asked.

"No," the boy said nervously. "I've been here near as long as Jon." Ned frowned.

"So how long has Benjen been gone?" He asked. They wouldn't meet his gaze, obviously reluctant to answer. "How long?"

"He went out on a ranging a few days after Jon arrived," Edd finally told him. "His horse returned about a week later, and the bodies of two of his men were found a few miles north of the Wall."

"And my brother?"

"He hasn't been seen since," Edd said. Ned felt as though a good deal of the air had suddenly left the room.

"Have any rangers been sent out after him?" He asked.

"Yes. They haven't found anything." Ned nodded, working to keep his face calm. _Gods, why are you punishing me? Is it because I lied to save my life? I was only trying to protect my family, but now they are lost to me and the only brother I had left is gone._

They ate in silence for some time after that, until the boy called Grenn spoke.

"Is it true you tried to kill the king?" He asked. Sam shushed him, looking scandalized, but Ned just forced a smile.

"No, although that doesn't matter much."

"Why not?"

"I'm a traitor anyway. I tried to keep Joffrey off the throne." The boys fell silent again after that: it appeared that Pyp and Grenn didn't know who Joffrey was, and Sam seemed too nervous to say anything. He couldn't tell what Edd was thinking: the gloomy-looking man seemed to be very focused on his meal.

After a while conversation started up again between the four friends, about the quality of the stew and what they were going to do tomorrow and how much it might snow that night. Ned was content to listen, and when they finished their meal he bid them goodnight and found his bed.

As he lay under his furs in the drafty room, he listened to the wind and thought of his family, living and dead. There were his father and Brandon, murdered by Mad King Aerys years ago. He remembered Lyanna in her bloody bed, the promise he'd made her and all the lies he'd told to keep it. He thought of his little brother Benjen, lying frozen and dead somewhere north of the Wall. He thought of his daughters, Sansa still a hostage in King's Landing, betrothed to Jaime Lannister's bastard, and Arya, who with any luck was making her way north with Yoren by now. He thought of Jon, standing watch in the cold high above. He thought of Bran and little Rickon and wished he could have visited them on his way to the Wall, but he'd come on a ship from King's Landing to Eastwatch and had not passed through Winterfell. He thought of Robb, riding south. And he thought about Catelyn, wishing more than anything that he could be with her now. But men of the Night's Watch had no wives, and he'd traded everything he had for the chance that his family might live. He prayed that it would be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

When Jon stumbled into the dining hall the next morning, he was halfway convinced that his legs had been replaced with blocks of ice. He was almost too cold to be hungry. Almost. Shaking snow out of his hair, he got himself a bowl of food and sat down at a table with his friends. He was surprised to see his father there with them too, but before he could comment, Sam spoke.

"Seven hells, Jon, you look like a wight," he exclaimed.

"Don't even joke," Jon grumbled, yanking the gloves off his numb fingers to pick up his spoon. "It wouldn't surprise me if someone goes up there one night and comes back down with glowing blue eyes."

"Was it cold last night?" Grenn asked.

"Not at all," Jon said sarcastically, his mouth half full of porridge. "It was a lovely evening. We had a nice warm breeze coming up from the south." The others laughed.

"I swear, Jon, you've had more night shifts than the rest of us put together," Grenn commented.

"Grenn!" Pyp gasped, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest. "You can count?"

"Shut up," the bigger boy growled, giving the other a playful shove while their friends laughed.

"I guess you're just unlucky. You know who's in charge of assigning shifts, and I'm sure he'd never do it unfairly," Edd said darkly.

"He's a real prick," Pyp agreed.

"I'm guessing this is Ser Alliser?" Ned asked, and Jon shifted his attention back to his father, who had up to this point been listening silently.

"The one and only," Pyp affirmed. "You'll have the pleasure of spending plenty of time with him for the next few weeks."

"Why's that?" Ned asked.

"He's in charge of training the new recruits."

"I see."

"Pyp, I'll bet you two shifts on the Wall that Thorne comes up with an embarrassing nickname for Lord Stark," Grenn said.

"Ned," he corrected. "Call me Ned."

"I'll take that bet," Pyp agreed. "I think Thorne'll be too scared to make fun of Ned."

"Why?" Sam asked, and Pyp grinned wickedly.

"Remember what happened last time Thorne insulted him in front of Jon?"

Jon ducked his head to hide the blush creeping up his face. Lunging at his superior officer with a carving knife was not exactly the kind of story he wanted his father to hear about him.

"I'll bet you a shift that Thorne will call him a traitor at least three times before the end of the day," Edd offered before anyone could tell the story.

"I'll take that bet too," Pyp said.

"You sure? By the end of the day you're going to owe us three shifts."

"Only if I lose," Pyp replied. "I think Ser Alliser would rather not have another carving knife shoved in his face." Jon blushed an even deeper shade of red, and Pyp left the table, grinning broadly.

Jon spent the rest of the day doing chores, attending his duties as the Lord Commander's steward, and doing his best not to fall asleep where he stood. When his business brought him through the practice yard, he always lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary to watch the new recruits training. Most were the usual thieves, criminals, and orphans, and Lord Stark stood out like a sore thumb in the ragtag group.

Once, as Jon was headed to the kitchen around midday, he paused for a moment to watch Ser Allister putting the group through some basic sword drills.

"All right, stop, the lot of you," the knight shouted. "There's only so much of that I can bear to watch. Time to spar." He proceeded to rattle off a list of his famous nicknames, pairing the trainees up for practice fights. Jon was ony half listening when he heard: "You with the bat ears, you'll work with Lord Traitor over there." Jon clenched his fists and glared at Thorne, but Ned didn't react, just moved to stand beside the bat-eared boy.

Across the yard, Jon noticed that he wasn't the only one watching. Pyp stood with a bucket of water in hand, watching the practice. He looked up and met Jon's gaze.

 _That's one,_ Jon mouthed. Pyp grimaced and walked away, shaking his head.

That night at dinner, Lork Stark confirmed that Edd had, in fact, won the bet: Thorne had called him traitor a total of seven times that day. Grumbling, Pyp accepted his loss and agreed that the next shift Edd was assigned would be his.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Jon realized that he hadn't yet had the chance to talk to his father alone. There was much they needed to discuss, but their respective duties kept them apart most of the time, and during meals they were always surrounded by other people. After a frustrating few days, Jon managed to negotiate with his brothers to trade shifts with him so he and his father were assigned to guarding the wall on the same night. They rode up in the winch cage together in silence, as neither were talkative men by nature. But when they reached the top and stood together beside a fire Jon's curiosity won out.

"What really happened in King's Landing, father?" He asked.

"Much happened," Ned sighed. "And none of it good."

"You're not a traitor," Jon said firmly.

"It depends who you ask," Ned told him, and explained all that had happened since he became King Robert's hand.

"So you lied," Jon said when his father had finished talking.

"Yes, Jon. I lied," Ned sighed. "I had a choice. I could have done what honor demanded, stand by what I said, and fight to see the rightful king crowned. But the cost… I couldn't do it, Jon. If I hadn't lied, if I hadn't said Joffrey was the rightful king… my head would be decorating a spike on the walls of the Red Keep, any hope of making peace with the Lannisters would be lost, and the gods only know what they would have done to your sisters. My being here is the best chance we have at avoiding another long and bloody war. What I did was wrong, Jon, but the alternative was far, far worse. Can you understand that?"

"Yes," Jon said. "A year ago I don't think I would have, but now…"

"Things have changed," Ned finished. Jon nodded in agreement.

"What about Arya? And Sansa?" Jon asked after a pause. "Are they hostages now?"

"Sansa is still betrothed to Joffrey, as far as I know. The Lannisters will want to use her marriage to control the North. Arya is with Yoren- have you met him?"

"Yes. He went to King's Landing to recruit new members to the Watch."

"He's bringing her North. She'll be safe in Winterfell soon, if the gods are good."

"They rarely are," Jon muttered. Ned looked at him across the fire, face distorted slightly by the heat rising from the flames. He remembered Pyp's joking question the night he'd arrived at Castle Black, about Jon being a "grim bastard". It was true what Ned had told them: Jon had always been serious. But he could see now that this boy he called son was different now. No, he thought. Not a boy anymore.

"What of you, Jon? What's happened since you left Winterfell?" Ned asked.

"Much happened," Jon echoed Ned's earlier statement. Ned listened as Jon explained his training, everything he'd learned, how he earned the friendship of his fellow recruits, and how he had been assigned to the stewards instead of the rangers, like he'd wanted. "I was angry at first," he said. "I almost left then and there. But Sam convinced me to stay."

Then he'd taken his vows, only to be tempted to leave again when he heard that Robb was going to war. Again, it was his friends that kept him there. Finally, he talked about the wight walker who had tried to kill the Lord Commander and how he'd stopped it with fire.

"I thought they were a myth," Ned said, thinking of Old Nan and her stories. "Or else so long gone from the world that it made no difference."

"We all did."

"Direwolves south of the Wall, a red comet in the sky, and now the dead walk," Ned murmured.

"Winter is coming," Jon said solemnly.

"Aye. Us Starks are always right in the end." Jon looked up at his father.

"I'm not a Stark."

"No," Ned said. He met Jon's gaze, and in that moment Jon reminded him so much of his mother that it almost broke Ned's heart. "Not in name, but in every way that matters. You are my blood, Jon, and you are of the North. Never forget that."

"I won't, father."

Father, Ned thought. Will he still call me that when I tell him? Is it time? How will I find the words? I made a promise and I've kept it, but I never planned for this.

They were quiet for a time, huddling close to the fire and watching snow fall over the edge of the world.

"Father?" Jon said suddenly.

"Yes, Jon?"

"There's something else I wanted to ask you." Jon couldn't seem to meet Ned's eyes. "When we left Winterfell, you said... you said when we met again, you'd tell my about my mother."

"Aye. I did," Ned agreed. He remembered that conversation, remembered thinking that that windswept hillside outside of Winterfell, moments before parting ways for what he thought would be years, was not the time or place for such a revelation. At least, that's what he told himself when he replied, knowing full well that this could be the last time he ever saw Jon. It was craven, what I did, Ned thought bitterly. I should have told him years ago.

"Who was she, father?" Jon asked, desperation coloring his voice. Ned let out a long breath and watched it rise in a silvery cloud before him.

"She was highborn," he began, "but no southern lady. She was strong. She could shoot a bow as well as any knight, and ride a horse better than most. Some called her wild, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Her hair was long, brown like yours. She hated brushing it when she was a little girl. She had gray eyes like the sky before it snows." Ned swallowed hard and struggled to keep his voice steady. "She died too soon. I was there when it happened. She'd just given birth to you."

"Is that what killed her, then?" Jon asked. He seemed to be avoiding looking at Ned, and his voice shook slightly.

"Yes."

Jon nodded stiffly. "And her name?"

Ned took a deep breath. It was time.

"Lyanna Stark."


	5. Chapter 5

_"And her name?"_

 _Ned took a deep breath. It was time._

 _"Lyanna Stark."_

 _..._

"Your _sister_?" Jon gasped. Ned heard horror in his voice and cursed himself for beginning in that way.

"Let me explain, Jon."

"You betrayed your wife to fuck your _sister_?" Jon asked disgustedly.

"Don't speak of her like that," Ned snapped. Jon had never talked to him like that before.

"But you-" For a moment, Jon seemed lost for words. "Gods, I'm not just a bastard. I'm not even just a traitor's bastard!" He laughed, a wild, humorless sound. "Thorne would love this- I'm a traitor's bastard _borne of incest_!"

"You're not."

"How?" Jon demanded incredulously. "Explain to me how you're my father and your sister is my mother and I am not the product of incest."

"I am not your father." Jon froze.

"What?" He said quietly.

"I am not your father," Ned repeated. "You are the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."

Ned watched Jon's mouth silently repeat his father's name, shock written all over his face. He could practically see the pieces clicking together in Jon's mind: the tourney at Harrenhal, the crown of blue roses, Lyanna's kidnapping and the war that followed.

"Why- but- you said-" Jon seemed incapable of forming a complete sentence.

"I'll explain, Jon," Ned said gently. "When Rhaegar died at the Trident, Lyanna was already pregnant. By the time I found her in Dorne, she had just given birth to you. She made me promise to look after you and to keep your parentage a secret. So I took you with me to Winterfell and claimed you were my bastard. I don't think Catelyn ever truly forgave me for it. I wanted so many times to tell her the truth, but I was afraid that she would only hate you more for putting her children in danger. Because it was dangerous, Jon. If Robert had found out, he would have killed you, no questions asked, and perhaps me too for hiding you."

"But you were his best friend!" Jon protested.

"Aye, I was. But when it came to Targaryens, Robert's hatred was all encompassing. It blinded him, and if it came down to it, I don't know if my friendship or his hatred would win out. I have a feeling that he hated Targaryens more than he ever loved anyone, except perhaps Lyanna."

"I still don't understand why he would have wanted me dead so badly. It's not as if I was a threat to him. What could one bastard child do to the king of the Seven Kingdoms?"

Ned smiled grimly. "Surely you can answer that yourself." Jon slowly shook his head.

"Stark or Targaryen, it doesn't matter. I'm still a bastard, and bastards don't inherit. I have no claim to the Iron Throne."

"But you do, Jon. You have more a right to that throne than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms, certainly more than Robert ever did. Robert became king through rebellion, but you are Rhaegar's son. The Iron Throne is your birthright."

"That's ridiculous," Jon snapped. Ned shrugged.

"Ridiculous or not, it's the truth."

"Even if I did have a claim to the throne, and even if I cared to act on it, I couldn't. I've taken my vows. _I shall wear no crowns_. I'm no king."

"And no one is asking you to be. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Joffrey is the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. There are only three people in the world who know the truth, and two of them are sitting right here."

"And the third?"

"Howland Reed, of Greywater Watch. He was there in Dorne, he saw what happened. He's kept this secret for nearly twenty years, he's not like to share it now."

"So what am I to do?" Jon asked quietly. "Now that I know?"

"You live, Jon," Ned replied gently. "That's all any of us can do."


End file.
